Grime
by gater62
Summary: Will Carter ever find relief after returning from a grubby mission? One shot based on an actual event.


Lt

_I don't intend any copyright infringement in the use of the Stargate characters. I just enjoy writing about them._

_I would like to thank AstraPerAspera for her extraordinary editing skills. She's the best!_

Grime

Lt. Colonel Sam Carter trudged down the metal ramp as the shimmering blue event horizon winked out behind her. Her head bowed with fatigue, it was all she could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. She had never been so exhausted in her life. Muscles she took for granted were aching, her feet were burning in her combat boots, and even the hairs on her head hurt. Unbelievably, she could feel every lump and bump in the iron grate on her poor tired feet.

Her head snapped up at the barely restrained snickers she heard coming from around the gate room. The unrepressed grins of the security forces on duty quickly faded, however, in the wake of the glares she shot at them. Not that she blamed them for their now silent laughter; she probably looked and smelled as bad as she felt.

Covered completely from head to toe in oily grime, Sam felt as if some sort of slimy species were crawling all over her skin. Resisting the urge to wipe her face with a filthy hand, she glanced toward Sergeant Matthews. The young enlisted man was guiltily avoiding her eyes. Pursing her lips, Sam knew intellectually that Matthews hadn't intended on dousing her in putrid fluid, but that hadn't stopped her from being short with him for the remainder of the mission.

Today had been wretched, crawling through the burned out remains of an alien spacecraft looking for salvageable parts and taking readings of the materials of the ship's components. It had been in horrible shape, filthy with decay. The tropical environment of the planet had produced the rank mold creeping all over the narrow passageways as well as the interior of the engines. It had been absolutely disgusting, and Sam had found it impossible not to brush up against the rotting walls. But when Matthews accidentally triggered some sort of hydraulic fluid to flow into the casing where she had been taking measurements, Sam had come perilously close to throwing up the contents of her stomach. It might not have been so bad if it hadn't happened at the very start of the mission; she'd had to crawl through the engine room and auxiliary spaces the whole long day swathed in this muck. She was sticky, hot, and quite sure that she smelled like something that had died at least a month previously.

"Welcome back, SG-7 and Colonel Carter." General Landry waved to the group from the control room. "Colonel? What the hell happened to you?"

"It's my fault, sir," Matthews interjected. "I opened the wrong valve."

He sounded so wretched, Sam believed she might be able to forgive him…someday.

"Were you able to find any useful technology in that downed spacecraft?"

"Nothing, sir," Sam replied. "The alien spacecraft looked as if had been picked over pretty clean at some point. But it's been a while since anyone has been in that wreck."

"All right. Briefing tomorrow morning at 08:30. Remember we've got an inspection going on now, folks."

_You've got to be kidding_, Sam thought with disbelief. The IOA inspection had totally slipped her mind. And frankly, she didn't care. It didn't matter if the President himself was roaming the halls of the SGC; she was heading to the locker room come hell or high water. Just let a bunch of bureaucrats stand in her way.

Wrinkling her nose in distaste at the foul odor she was exuding, she couldn't help but notice the wide berth SG-7 and other personnel were giving her as she exited the gate room. A hot shower, a cup of coffee and her throbbing bare feet on the cool tiled floor consumed her thoughts as she shuffled down the halls.

Sam relished the thought of the pounding hot water washing away the slimy grit left from the mission. Not only that, she craved the capacity of the scorching cascades to ease away the aches and pains, as well as the stress of this day. Despite the fact the showers here on base didn't have pulsating showerheads, at least the water came out hard enough to almost qualify as a massage. The only downside—she'd have to stand in the shower stall on her throbbing feet. Too bad the Air Force didn't supply foot soakers with massaging action in the locker rooms.

Maybe the SGC should just invest in hiring a masseuse, Sam mused. Someone with strong hands who would firmly grasp her tender soles, gently squeeze her painful toes soothing the aches. His strong thumbs would knead right down the middle of the arch...painful but pleasantly so...his silver hair catching the firelight as his chocolate brown eyes gazed wickedly into hers…

"Colonel Carter?"

Flustered, she snapped out of her daydream. "Yes, Sergeant? What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but the locker room is off limits for the time being."

"_What?_" It may not have come out as a screech, but it was probably close. "What do you mean, 'off-limits'?"

She couldn't help but notice how Siler flinched at her tone. "There was a break in the water main, ma'am. We've got a crew in there making repairs and trying to clean up the mess. I'm afraid SG1's lockers were closest to the break and your things may not be in the best of condition."

Closing her eyes in frustration, Sam willed herself to take some deep, calming breaths. It was not Siler's fault, she told herself. She let out a frustrated sigh.

"Thank you, Sergeant. I'll be in my lab then, if anyone is looking for me."

At least she could still manage the cup of coffee and let the cold tile floor soothe her feet while she typed up her report. Just those would go a long way in helping relieve the day's stress. Turning around, she headed to her lab, pretending not to notice the grimaces SG personnel were making as they stepped warily out of her way.

Relief at finally reaching her lab turned to dismay as she found an empty coffee can sitting beside the drained carafe. The damned machine was still on and burned residue lined the bottom of the pot. _Daniel_, she silently fumed. Resisting the urge to throw her mug across the lab, she nevertheless set it down a little harder than usual, shaking the contents sitting on the table. It was extremely difficult not to stomp as she headed to her workbench and opened her laptop. While it was booting up, she leaned over and used the time to remove the first of her heavy combat boots. The chill of the tile brought an instantaneous respite on her fiery foot.

Just as she got the laces undone on the second boot, she heard a throat clearing in the doorway. Looking up, she saw Colonel Reynolds fidgeting at the entrance to her lab. Repressing an annoyed sigh, she asked, "Yes, Colonel? What can I do for you?" This was getting old.

"Colonel Carter, I hate to do this to you, but as you recall, a delegation from the IOA is here for an inspection tour of the SGC. I'm going to have to ask you to be a little less visible."

Sam clenched her teeth. _And less smelly, too, I'm sure_, she thought waspishly. "I'll see what I can do, Colonel," she scowled.

After Reynolds left, she continued to sit at her workbench, insubordinately refusing to leave. As she began transferring the data from her scanner to the laptop, she silently seethed. There was no way she was going to hide from a bunch of Washington shrubs. She had work to do and no mealy-mouthed politicians were going to stop her. How dare they think that their superficial sensibilities should take precedence over the work she was doing to keep their precious noses from being bloodied by the Ori!

"Good lord, O'Neill! What is that smell?"

Sam froze. The voices were way down the hall, but definitely heading toward her lab. Crap! What was _he_ doing here? He didn't mention coming in and she certainly didn't remember hearing that he would be part of the inspection team. Trying to stifle her panic, she unplugged her laptop and clutched at it. She couldn't let him see her like this! Eyes lighting on the equipment storage room, she rushed in and closed the door in relief.

The floor of the closet was even colder on her lone bare foot.

Holy Hannah. She'd left the one boot under the desk.

Too late. She could already hear the murmur of voices in her lab; she strained to hear what they were saying. Hearing a lyrical feminine voice commenting on the dirty condition of the lab and its horrid odor, Sam wanted to leap from the closet and land her fist right in that cultured mouth. The only thing that stopped her was the thought that the General was out there and she didn't want him to see her in this condition. Sure he'd seen her in the field far worse than this, but now…now she would die of embarrassment if he saw her in this condition.

Sam was relieved to hear the voices grow fainter as the group moved out of lab. She leaned back against the ledges of the cabinet, irritated that he'd come without telling her. Light suddenly burst into the storage room, causing her to blink in confusion.

"Carter? Whatcha doin' in here?"

Jumping back into the steel shelving unit, she squeaked, "Sir!" Rubbing her shoulder, she knew that bump would leave one helluva bruise tomorrow. She looked at him suspiciously. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"Here at the SGC or here in the storage closet?"

She pursed her lips. "Both."

"In both cases, I'm here to see my favorite lieutenant colonel."

Sam grinned at him. "I'd hate to break it to you, but Mitchell's not here at the moment."

Jack's eyes twinkled. "In that case, I'll have to settle for you."

His hands reached out for her, but she swatted at them and backed away, trying not to get any of the grime on him.

"Don't touch me, Jack! I'm filthy…and smelly, as if you hadn't noticed. You'll get dirty."

He shrugged his shoulders as he stepped towards her. "I may be flying a desk at the Pentagon, Sam, but I'm still a hands-on kind of guy."

His hand reached out and firmly grasped her chin as she made to move away. Sam's eyes fluttered shut as Jack's lips gently brushed against her own. It took every ounce of will power to keep her arms at her side. But when she felt his hands grasp the back of her head and tug her closer, she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. After a few moments, they leaned back and gazed fondly at the other. 

Her eyes traveled over him, drinking him in after weeks of separation. As her hand reached up to caress his face, she was horrified at the sight of slimy residue on his service dress jacket.

"Oh, Jack! Your uniform! And you still need to finish the inspection."

"I think, Carter, you just gave me the perfect excuse to withdraw from the tour."

She glared at him. "Jack O'Neill! Did you do that on purpose? Just to get out of babysitting duty?"

He gave her his lopsided grin—the one that made her insides turn to mush. "Think of this as a golden opportunity, Carter. Now you _have_ to take me home to get me out of this uniform. I might even need to shower…I know you certainly do!"

Sam snorted at him. "You're incorrigible; you know that, don't you?"

He waggled his eyebrows. "That's what you love about me," he grinned. "Come on, Carter. Get your boot and take me home."

As she locked up the storage closet and picked her grimy boot off the floor, Sam couldn't help but smile.

Maybe she'd get that foot massage after all.

_Note: This is based on a true incident that happened to me while in the Navy. Too bad I didn't have Jack to pop in on me while I was forced to hide in the darkroom. _


End file.
